What of the Children...And Us {an excerpt}
- White Stone
- Sep 10
- 6 min read
You might want to gird up your loins for this one!
When God places the spiritual lackings of our young people upon our hearts, it is not a casual nudge—it is a sacred summons requiring the highest level of spiritual discernment. This is no ordinary observation of youthful immaturity, but a divine entrustment from the heart of God, revealing that eternity itself is being threatened in the choices and distractions shaping the next generation. It demands of us a trembling sensitivity to the Holy Spirit, an unwavering commitment to truth, and an unclouded view of the times in which we live. To rightly interpret what God reveals, we must weep where He weeps, grieve where He grieves, and war where He wars. Discernment at this level is not merely the ability to see sin or error, but the wisdom to perceive how the enemy has subtly severed the connection between youth and purpose, between their identity and the call of God. We are being invited to stand in the gap—not in criticism, but in intercession, mentoring, and holy example. The hour is late, and what we fail to discern and act upon in the hearts of our youth today may determine whether they stand sealed in Christ tomorrow or fall in the deception that is swiftly coming upon the whole world. In the most vivid details of terror imaginable we must understand the utter devastation to come upon humanity because we failed to recognize the word of God. How our failure to monitor the youth’s time spent playing online games contribute to their neglect of the word of God that could have saved them and will reach such a threshold of sound as to cause a level of spiritual discomfort beyond measure. It is imperative that we spare no language, no insightfulness that may awaken us to the reality of what is coming.
In the final throes of a world that rejected its Maker, terror unlike any that has ever pierced the human soul will descend like a shroud over the earth. The skies will turn sin-black with the wrath of the ignored Word, and men’s hearts will fail them for fear, knowing deep within that they played and laughed while eternity pleaded and bled at the door. The screams of children, long desensitized by the games of digital war, will echo without comfort—children
who spent their formative years conquering virtual worlds, only to awaken too late to find they have no sword for the real one. Parents, who once beamed at their children’s gaming achievements, will collapse in despair, realizing too late that their silence was complicity. The Word of God—so near, so freely available—was traded for pixels and fantasy. It was not just unread but despised, gathering dust while the spirit of the age seduced the young with dopamine and distraction. Now, when they cry for truth, it will be as a dry well. Famine will stalk not just the body but the soul—a famine of hearing the words of the Lord. And in the silence, amid the ashes of nations and the stench of spiritual death, humanity will understand the price of its forgetfulness. But understanding will come without mercy, and regret will no longer be redemptive—it will be eternal.
Our hearts will be rung with spiritually charged lamentation and warning, conveying both the horror of the coming devastation and the deep neglect that brought it upon humanity—particularly through our failure to guard the hearts of our children. In the closing scenes of earth’s history, when mercy withdraws her hand and the Word of God is no longer preached in the streets, the world will finally come face to face with the full terror of its rejection of divine truth. What is soon to fall upon humanity will not be a mere sequence of natural disasters or political upheavals, but a cascading torrent of divine judgment, meticulously
restrained for millennia, now unbound. The sky will darken with more than storm clouds—it will grow heavy with the weight of divine silence. No thunder will be as dreadful as the absence of God's voice. Communities will crumble from the implosion of meaning itself. Towers of pride will fall, economies will disintegrate, and the ground will seem to recoil from the dead it has absorbed. The world will be plunged into a terror so thick, so unspeakably dreadful, that men will crawl into caves and cry for death to shield them from the face of the Lamb they once mocked. Among the most damning indictments of this generation will be its treatment of the youth—our most precious charge. The very ones entrusted to inherit the knowledge of God were instead handed glowing screens and allowed to dwell in digital illusions. We gave them war games instead of warfare prayers, fantasy worlds instead of the Word of Truth, and hours of ceaseless stimulation while their hearts and minds withered from lack of living water. Where once family altars were built and the scriptures opened morning and night, there will be coffee tables cluttered with controllers, headsets, and devices—silent monuments to a war we never fought. Parents, intoxicated with their own distractions, failed to see the eternal consequences of a child's unguarded mind. Every hour spent slaughtering enemies in a game was an hour lost to knowing the One who died for theirs. Every achievement in virtual reality etched away their hunger for divine reality. Their innocence was not stolen—it was surrendered, sacrificed on the altar of convenience and cultural conformity.
What’s coming is not just punishment—it is the final consequence of spiritual erosion. The youth, when faced with the collapse of the world they once escaped into, will have no sword
of the Spirit to wield, no oil in their lamps, no memory of the Shepherd's voice. Their cries for help will rise, but they will fall back like echoes in a sealed tomb. For they were not taught the name of the Lord, nor trained to discern His voice amidst chaos. The Word of God— so full of life, so radiant with hope—was shut away, unopened in their homes, unread in their hearts, not taught in love. The prophets warned of a famine in the land—not of bread or water, but of hearing the words of the Lord. That famine is here. And when it fully matures, it will leave no harvest of repentance—only sorrow without seed, no blade, no fruit, and silence without solace.
In that day, regret will be a plague in every household. Fathers will curse their passivity. Mothers will sob over children who grew up under their roofs but outside the ark of salvation. The weeping will be for the knowledge that life eternal was within reach, and we let it slip through fingers too busy, too entertained, too dulled by endless texting, endless scrolling. The judgment will not only be on the wicked but on the negligent—those who knew the truth, felt its tug, but refused to change the course of their homes. We will see too late that spiritual indifference is generational treason. What we ignored, our children inherited. And what they inherited will crush them unless divine intervention breaks through the fog of apostasy.
This writing is not merely a condemnation—it is a last-hour cry. While breath remains, and the Word can still be opened, and the child still listens, there is hope. But that window is closing, and the storm is nearer than we dare admit. Let the fathers rise and tear down the altars of entertainment. Let the mothers gather their children and weep between the porch and the altar. Let the Word be lifted high in the home until its light drives out every shadow. For what is coming will demand a faith forged in truth, a faith stronger than fantasy, a faith that can stand when all around collapses.
We are not preparing for mere hardship—we are standing at the threshold of the great and dreadful day of the Lord. May our tears water the ground now, that our children may yet bear fruit in the day of famine. And may we all remember: the Word we neglect today may be the very Word that could have saved us tomorrow.
Yet even in this encroaching darkness, there remains a path lit with the soft, unwavering glow of divine mercy. The terror that awaits the unprepared is not yet sealed against those who turn and seek the Lord with all their heart. And astonishingly, the turning point—the beginning of revival and rescue— may hinge on what seems the simplest of commitments: just one sacred hour a day spent in the Word of God. Not out of obligation, nor as a ritual token, but as a deep, expectant, Spirit-filled meeting with the mind and heart of God. One hour in the Word is not merely time spent—it is time exchanged: our weakness for His strength, our confusion for His wisdom, our fear for His courage.
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